Keeper of the King's Secrets (26 page)

And to make this quite clear I say that I consider those who are able to support themselves by their own resources who can, either by abundance of men or money, raise a sufficient army to join battle against any one who comes to attack them; and I consider those always to have need of others who cannot show themselves against the enemy in the field, but are forced to defend themselves by sheltering behind walls.

—Machiavelli
, The Prince,
chapter 10

T
he Comte walked out from the gardens, into the thin light that spilled from behind Susanna as she stepped out of the side door.

Her watcher took a grip on her arm, as if afraid she would bolt.

He was right to be afraid.

“Well?” In the dim light, Susanna could see that the Comte’s face was eager, his hopes high.

He would strike back all the harder because of it when he learned the bad news.

“Wolsey got there first.” The spy kept wisely out of the Comte’s reach as he spoke softly in French.

“What?” The Comte went very still.

“If it is any consolation, I do not think he found anything in the room. Every piece was smashed. The Mirror is elsewhere.”

“I thought …” The Comte raised both hands to his forehead, massaged the sides. “Where else could that damned
diamantaire
have left it?”

Susanna said nothing. She had not been addressed, and if the Comte’s spy had not had such a tight hold on her, she would have tried to slip away.

“You.” The Comte pointed a finger at her. “You knew Jens; where would he have hidden it?”

She sighed. “The man I knew came to dinner with my family and laughed with us. He played with me as a child, and sent me presents on my birthday.” She looked straight at the Comte. “The man I met in London a few days ago tried to kill me with his chisel in a dark alley. I do not know where he would have hidden it.”

“That is the problem exactly.” The Comte spun in rage, his hands fists. “He thought he was for the Tower at any moment. It unbalanced him. He could have thrown it in the Thames, for all I know.”

“Perhaps he did.”

The voice came from behind her, and suddenly the grip on her arm fell away. The spy made a faint sigh as he crumpled to the ground.

“Parker.” She blinked, and he was beside her.

He looked the worse for wear, his face white, with a dark bruise on his forehead. He did not move in his usual, easy way—his whole body was clenched tight with pain.

But there was no mistaking the gleam of steel in one hand, a club in the other. There was a set to his jaw that said he would bear the pain and more; his focus was entirely on the Comte.

“The way Jean spoke of you today, I thought you were near death, my friend.” The Comte took a step back.

“Obviously not.” Parker lifted a hand, a signal of some sort, and three guards stepped from the shadows. “I think the Comte has turned in here by mistake. Please escort him out onto the road.”

The Comte bowed, but Susanna saw the flash of hatred in his eyes. He gestured to one of the guards to lead the way, and walked off without a backward glance, leaving his spy lying unconscious on the ground.

“Madame.” Parker turned and crushed her to him, and she let herself be enveloped.

“You should be abed,” she whispered.

He barked out a laugh. “Aye, but my betrothed goes out and stirs up trouble in the middle of the night.” He paused a moment. “I listened a little to the talk before I stepped forward. Am I right that the French found nothing?”

“They were looking in the wrong place.”

“It’s a pity we don’t know the right place.” He released her a little, and ran a hand over her hair.

She smiled up at him. “But we do.”

T
hey went home.

The Jewel Tower was locked, and Eric, Peter Jack, and
Harry had the stark-eyed look of war veterans. Parker could barely stand straight himself.

Susanna’s throat was a rainbow of bruises, and there were dark circles beneath her eyes. She had done more than he could believe in one day. Formidable things.

The Mirror could stay where it was. It seemed they were the only ones who knew it was there.

If
it was there.

When they came to the house on Crooked Lane, he saw Eric actually weep with relief.

A cold rage gripped Parker. There would be an accounting for this day. For this whole week.

Mistress Greene opened the door as soon as his boot took the first step.

Eric ran to her, and she grabbed him up and dragged him into the kitchen, tiny sobs escaping her.

Parker let Harry and Peter Jack follow them in, and then turned to hold out a hand for Susanna.

She let him pull her up the last step, and stood close and warm in his arms.

“You must have a strong longing for bed.” Her voice still caught on a rasp, and his fists clenched her cloak. He wished he had given in to temptation and used his knife on Jean’s throat earlier. An injury for an injury.

He kept his voice even. “Aye. And you.”

She nodded against his shoulder, holding tight and burrowing in deep.

“What did Norfolk say to you? Jean said he was having you followed.”

He could tell she did not want to answer, because she went very still.

“What did he say?” He rubbed her shoulders, and slowly, she relaxed again.

“He saw the Comte talking to me in the Privy Chamber when I went to speak to the King. He said he’d use that, use the fact that others had seen, too, to build a case of treason against me if I got in the way of his plans to bring down Wolsey. He said he would fabricate as much as he could get away with.”

The rage burned even colder, and Parker held her a little tighter.

“This is going to get worse, isn’t it?” she whispered.

“Yes.” He looked up to the stars that showed through the patches of cloud. “Worse for them.”

So it happens with fortune, who shows her power where valour has not prepared to resist her, and thither she turns her forces where she knows that barriers and defences have not been raised to constrain her.

—Machiavelli
, The Prince,
chapter 25

T
hey slept late, and it was almost midday before their barge bumped up against the dock at Westminster.

As Susanna accepted Parker’s hand, she looked up at the Jewel Tower in anticipation and fear.

They walked to the entrance in silence; took the stairs to the room where they had spent time with Thomas Wyatt only a few days ago.

It felt like years.

Parker stopped, sudden and quiet, and Susanna saw Wyatt outside the room, papers strewn across his desk, eyes closed, his golden locks all wild about him.

“Wyatt.” Parker drew them closer, and Susanna looked down at the desktop. He had been writing poetry, she saw in a
brief glimpse before Wyatt’s eyes snapped open and he scooped the pages to him.

“What?” He seemed not to recognize them at first, then relaxed back into his chair. “You.”

Parker tried the door to the room, and when he found it locked, extended his palm to Wyatt.

As he took keys from his pocket, Wyatt kept his gaze on Parker. “You have Wolsey in a grip of dread. He looks as if he has not slept. He attended lunch in the Privy Chamber yesterday, which he never does. Many thought it to ingratiate himself with the King after their fight the night before over you. Halfway through the meal, a servant came with a message and Wolsey left. He looked as if he were ailing.”

Susanna smiled. Most likely Wolsey’s men had sent word that she had rescued Parker from his cell.

Wyatt was watching her, and his eyes widened. “You seem to know something of it, my lady.”

“She was the cause of it.” Parker turned the key and pushed open the door. “Give us the inventory, Wyatt.”

Wyatt drew open a drawer in the desk and pulled out the roll of parchment. Susanna took it and stepped into the room after Parker, Wyatt behind her.

There it was. She looked at the small note Jens had made in the margin and nodded, her pulse racing.

“Box 136.”

Parker began searching for it, and Wyatt joined him. Susanna thought about where Jens would put the box, especially
knowing there would be a search after the Mirror was discovered missing. She sat on the large chest in the center of the room, looking up and around as she turned on it.

Then she stilled.

Stood.

And opened the chest she was sitting on.

“What is it?” Wyatt turned her way. “That is empty: we use it only to sit on.”

Susanna ignored him and lifted the lid. “Box 136.” Even though she whispered it, her voice was audible in the silent room. She lifted out a small casket, amazed at the weight of it.

The box was unlocked, and she flipped the lid open with a finger.

The sun caught the stone, making a thousand rainbows dance on the walls. Susanna lifted the piece out and the diamond covered the whole of her palm; the pear-shaped pearl dangling below it caressed her wrist, smooth as silk.

She lifted her eyes and caught Parker’s gaze. He saluted her with a tip of his head, and she smiled back at him.

Dumbstruck, Wyatt opened his mouth, closed it again, and then sank to the floor on his knees. “How? How did you puzzle it out?”

“Jens left a clue on this inventory.” Susanna set the jewel back into its box. “It was in French, and I only realized later what it could mean.”

“What did it say?”

“Chased piece, 136.”

“I saw that.” Wyatt pulled himself to his feet. “I thought he
was talking about an engraved piece.” He dusted his knees. “As was his intention.”

Parker held out his hands and Susanna placed the casket in them.

“What will you do now?” Wyatt looked at the small box as if it were a snake. “Wolsey cannot be called to account for this. It never left the Jewel Tower.”

“I will take it to the King.” Parker snapped the lid shut.

“And then? Wolsey will get away with this.” Wyatt ran hands through his already wild hair, making it stand more on end. It caught the light and he looked like some wild sprite, elemental and beautiful. Susanna was suddenly sure his poetry was magnificent.

“Not if I can help it.” Since last night, the shutters had come down over Parker’s eyes and darkness seemed to swirl around him.

She had seen him like this before, and she knew the signs.

He was about to wreak havoc.

A
nticipation hummed through Parker as the sailboat navigated downriver from Westminster to Bridewell.

The casket was nestled on Susanna’s lap. Wolsey would likely flee the room if he saw what Parker was bringing for the King today.

And Norfolk … Well, Norfolk would need to be handled carefully.

The boatman let out a little more sail and they flew faster on the water. He caught Parker watching him and grinned.

Parker heard the buzz of vibration as something flew through the air past his ear. In a soundless movement, the boatman let go of the ropes and fell into the water, a bolt through his eye.

Parker twisted to see Jean cranking the next bolt into his bow. He stood dangerously forward in a boat behind them, balancing himself with a foot against the prow, ready to take aim again.